Accident
by Kirsti-Lee
Summary: A terrible accident leaves Harry incapacitated and alone. With no living relatives left, who will the boy grow to trust and depend upon? Char. Death, mentions of abuse, Severus-mentors-Harry-fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Set at the start of Harry's second year. Severus/Harry mentor story, no slash. References to abuse, char. death. R&R!**

Harry looked around the busy train station, trying to see his Uncle. Perhaps he had decided not to come; perhaps the shock of finding out Harry was a wizard and Dudley's pig tail had been too much and the Dursleys had decided to abandon him. Hours passed, and sitting on the bench was becoming laborious. The sun beat down harshly, causing the skin on the back of his neck to become crimson under the burning rays. He had not bought a drink on the Hogwarts Express, and he doubted his wizard money would buy him much here. Finally, as dusk was falling, a sharp voice sounded above him.

"He's over here, Vernon!" his Aunt's horse-like face peered down at him.

A hand roughly grabbed his shoulder, and Harry gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out.

"We've been looking for you, boy. Your ruddy Headmaster chose not to send us a letter telling us when you finished school until this morning, and we weren't going to hurry for the likes of you," he snarled.

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry said meekly as he was deposited on the ground.

His Aunt merely glared at him as she lead the way back to the car, where his cousin was sitting stuffing himself with chips.

"Mum, my favorite program is on telly in an hour. I want to watch it! Why did we have to come out here for _him_ anyway?" he whined, spraying Harry with chip crumbs.

"Don't worry pumpkin, we'll make it," she promised.

But a train had just come in, and people were everywhere. They got stuck behind a long line of cars, and by the time they were on the freeway Dudley was in tears. Vernon's moustache was twitching in anger, and as soon as the way was clear he planted his foot on the accelerator.

Harry watched in alarm as the speedometer rose, but he did not say anything. If there was one thing his Uncle hated, it was criticism. He felt his eyes drooping; he had been out in the sun far too long.

He awoke to his Aunt's shriek and a blinding flash of light, and then there was only pain. Something warm dripped through his fringe, and he groaned aloud. He tried to keep his eyes open, but it was so hard.

"Boy! Can you hear me? Keep your eyes open, help is on the way," a voice said urgently, but it sounded far away.

"Wha…what happened?" Harry croaked. His glasses were smashed against his face, and all he could see was darkness.

"You hit another car. You're trapped, between the front and back seat," the voice said calmly.

Harry gasped painfully.

"But my Aunt, and Uncle. Dudley?" he croaked.

The voice seemed to take a long time to answer.

"We're doing what we can for them, but you're our priority. What's your name?"

"Harry. It's Harry," but he could barely focus, the pain was overwhelming.

"Stay awake, come on…" but the voice faded as he spiraled into oblivion.

The quiet of a Potions Laboratory had always appealed to Severus, ever since he was a small boy. A place where no one pointed or laughed, a place where talent was judged, and not appearance. There was a certain beauty to shimmering potions, gleaming cauldrons and glassed ingredients.

Here he could become lost in his work, and ignore everything else. A light tapping on his door disrupted his reverie.

He opened it to reveal the Headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry; not unexpected, but not exactly welcome either.

"Albus, I expressly asked not to be disturbed this evening. There are many potions that require my 'unique skills' as you dubbed them, and I-" he was cut off when the Headmaster raised his hand.

"As you know, Arabella has been watching Harry since he was a small boy, reporting any oddities. This morning, Arabella watched the Dursleys leave to pick Harry up form the train station. It seems that they have not returned. It is not within their normal behavior," Although his voice was casual, there was a deep-set worry in the old man's eyes.

"So? They took the boy to the cinema, or out to dinner to celebrate his homecoming. Perhaps they stayed out too late and went to a hotel for the night? What these so called guardians of the boy do is of little concern to us, Albus," Severus sneered, flicking a lock of oily hair back.

"You know why I insisted on leaving Harry there, Severus. You are the only member of the Order with whom I have entrusted this information. I fear something has waylaid the family, and that something is wrong. All I ask is that you go to their residence, tomorrow if possible, and find out if Harry is OK," The inference was clear; Albus was not asking.

Severus scowled and trained his eyes on the nearest cauldron as if trying to distance himself from this distasteful task.

"I will go, Headmaster. But I will not speak to the boy. You of all people know why I despise him so," he said softly.

"Yes. We all have our skeletons in our closet, my boy. The secret is to let them out once in a while,"

"I have no wish to relieve any of those memories. Now, if you would excuse me, Headmaster. I must get a full night's rest if I am to go to Surrey tomorrow," he waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

"Of course. Severus, remember that Harry is not James. Truthfully, they have very little in common,"

Severus flinched outwardly at that statement.

_'Bloody Potters, they're all the same. Spoilt, ignorant brats who never grow up, who never think of consequences. That boy- he is the worst of the lot.'_

With a final scowl, Severus diminished the lights in his workroom.

The 'boy' shrieked as the metal rolled above him. He had been trapped in the wreckage for what seemed like an eternity. None of his relatives had spoken a word.

'_They're unconscious, that's all,' _Harry thought, refusing to believe the worst.

The Dursleys simply could not be dead. They had always been there, even it was only to hurt him or bring him down. Vernon had work tomorrow; Dudley had spoken of boxing class, and Petunia of her garden wilting in the heat. All of those things would still be there tomorrow, and it was inconvincible that the people involved would not.

"There now, we've almost got you out. He's awake," a voice said above him. His body seemed to be floating, the haze of pain becoming more and more distant as time passed.

He snatched phrases from the air;

"He's losing too much blood!"

"Gently now, he could have spinal injuries,"

"I need another sheet over here!"

Confused as they were, Harry tried to block them out. There were brief flashes of light, strange noises as he was lifted into the back of an ambulance. Someone was holding his hand, fingers pressed against his wrist, and something had been placed over his mouth helping him breath.

"Stay awake child, just stay awake,"

Obediently he kept his eyes open, albeit half lidded.

All he could think was '_At least if I die, I will see my parents again,'_

The garden beds had been pruned to perfection, the paths were litter free. Every house looked exactly the same as the next, with shiny numbers displaying their only irregularity. Small children played in a park nearby; their squeals of joy unrestrained in the summer air. He moved amongst this paradise of residential living with characteristic scowl in place, his feet unwaveringly bringing him to his destination. The sooner he got this over with, the better after all. Finally he was in front of Potter's house. There was no movement, and no car in the driveway. Severus scowled all the more at the inconvenience. He had deliberately waited until late in the morning to run his errand, leaving the Dursleys ample time to return.

As he moved towards the door, a voice halted him.

"Are you a relative?" A woman next door looked over the fence at him, eyes wide.

Assembling himself into what could be passed as a human being, Severus answered.

"No, I'm afraid I am not. I am one of Potter's teachers. It seems he misplaced some of his possessions," he replied smoothly.

"Oh the Potter boy!" The woman's eyes darkened considerably. "Right spot of trouble that boy is. Petunia's always saying no good will come of him. At least she was. I don't think Petunia will be saying much of anything, anymore," Something about her tone made him stop. She was obviously one of those woman who took tabs on the neighbors simply because they hadn't anything better to do, and weren't educated enough to know better.

"What do you mean?" his voice sounded shaken, even to him.

"Had the police over this morning. Car accident killed the lot of them. Might get some decent neighbors now," she said the last wistfully, and looked over at the empty Dursley residence.

Severus brain seemed to burn the news. Potter, dead? Inconceivable.

"The boy, Harry-" the word sounded so foreign, but he ploughed on relentlessly. "He cannot be dead, I only spoke to him yesterday-"

"He's in the hospital, they said. Unconscious. Always a slippery one, as I said. If you're his teacher, that must mean you teach at St. Brutus', then?"

"What?" Severus said stupidly. He had turned to leave before she interrupted.

"St. Brutus' for incurable criminal boys, that's where Harry goes to school isn't it? Right bully he is,"

"Yes. I must be leaving now. The boy, is he in the local hospital?" Severus asked, resisting the urge to sprint from the house.

"Dunno. Probably," she seemed to have lost interest in him, and turned back to the magazine she had been reading prior to his arrival.

The Dursleys were old gossip by then; bring on the new!

A/N- Yes, I know I shouldn't be starting a new story when I have –looks- 16 unfinished ones, but it was itching to get out of my brain and so here it is. What do you think? Interesting, boring, predicable? Where would you like to see it go? If you review, then I'll know! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Arabella Figg's house stood out distinctly from those around it. Large metal cats adorned her front garden, with the occasional wooden hand painted cat statue there also. Her real cats slipped in amongst them with that delicacy only cats possess. None of this was taken in by the Master Spy however, as he hurried to the front door. He rapped his knuckles on the bright wooden door, which was opened almost immediately.

"Severus, how nice to-" her words were cut off as he brusquely pushed past.

"I need to use the Floo immediately. What were you thinking woman, keeping this form Dumbledore?" Severus snarled at the unfortunate squib.

"What are you talking about Severus…?" she gibbered, shutting the door behind him.

Severus threw a handful of Floo powder in the already crackling fire and stuck his head inside.

"Albus Dumbledore's office!" he called. An elaborately decorated room swam into view, and a disturbed Headmaster peered down at him.

"I have been to the Dursley residence, Headmaster. The Dursleys were involved in a car accident last night; they did not survive. The boy is supposedly in a critical condition in hospital,"

Severus ignored the sharp intake of breath from the woman behind him and continued.

"I will remain in the area; he is apparently at one of the local hospitals. I will find him and report back,"

The other man had stood and moved towards the fireplace, but Severus stopped him with a shake of the head.

"I will find him, Albus. I know the school wards need rebuilding after last month's fiasco; letting the Darklord gain entrance can not be overlooked,"

Finally Albus spoke, his blue eyes betraying his worry.

"Please Severus, you must find Harry. We need to bring him back to the Wizarding world as soon as possible,"

"I will do what I can, Headmaster," Severus replied softly, before withdrawing his head from the fireplace.

"Severus, I know I should have been keeping closer tabs on the boy, but I didn't leave the house this morning because Blackie was sick. I-" Arabella began, looking distressed.

"I have no time for your prattle woman. I will find Potter, and for your sake he'd better still be alive," Severus said with a sneer in her direction.

With those words he swept from her tacky house.

He was floating. Confused images chased each other through his aching head as he tried to work out why he felt this way. There was no pain; in fact, there was very little sensation at all. Harry tried to move his fingertips, but they felt like he had pins and needles. Worse, he tried to open his eyes and found it impossible. A strangled noise left his throat, but there was no one around to hear it, and something was sticking down his throat blocking all speech.

He was terrified, to say the least.

'_Breathe Harry, just Breathe. Now, think, what is the last thing you remember?' _Harry thought to himself desperately.

Images of a crush of metal, harsh breathing in the silence of the night came to mind.

_'We crashed. Uncle Vernon was going so fast…Uncle Vernon? Where are the Dursleys? What has happened to them?'_

In a real panic now, Harry tried to move, to speak, anything to bring attention to himself.

"Lie still, Potter. You will only injure yourself further," the silky voice was oddly familiar, but Harry could not immediately place it. Perhaps sensing his distress, the voice spoke again.

"I hope you don't think this will excuse you from your potions homework, Mr. Potter,"

And Harry knew with that sentence that he was dead and had gone to hell, and he allowed the darkness to claim him once more.

The white building stood out in stark relief against the blue skyline. Severus had never understood why hospitals always had such blank exteriors; it was as if to distract the mind from the death and sickness they contained within. A few inquiries and memory spells and he had gained Potter's location. He was dressed in the same Muggle attire he had worn to the Dursley residence; plain black suit, white shirt. Anyone who saw him would have had a hard time remembering his distinctive features, apart from his shoulder length black hair.

As the automatic doors opened, the smell of antiseptic hit him immediately. He wrinkled his nose slightly. To be a Potions Master, one must have a refined sense of smell in order to judge a potions readiness, but in this instance Severus regretted having such a nose. Crying children sat on the laps of tight-lipped adults. Others clutched at bloody injuries, or coughed into handkerchiefs. The tension in the air was palpable, but it was into this tense environment that Severus calmly walked into. The woman behind the counter raised a questioning face to him as he approached.

"I'm looking for someone. I was told he was at this hospital," he allowed a dance of fake emotions to play across his face. Worry, sadness, and pain; the things any other human would feel if someone they knew was in such a situation.

"What was his name?" the woman asked, hands poised above the computer.

"Harry Potter. He was involved in a car accident last night. I believe his relatives were killed," he replied.

"He is listed as critical, family members only to see him, Mr…?"

"Stevens. I am Harry's Uncle," the lie fell easily from his lips. The hand in his pocket twitched slightly and the woman's face switched from slight suspicion to complete ease.

"Of course. Room 103, there should be a doctor in with him at the moment," she said briskly, turning back to her work. A confusion spell had dispelled any worry, and she barely remembered the tall man in black as the flow of patients in and out continued. Severus had meanwhile found a lift that would take him to the required floor, and let go of his wand. The elevator played a simple tune as it moved slowly upwards, causing Severus to sneer at the strange Muggle inventions. The door clicked open, and the first thing he realized was that there was no noise on this floor. It was eerily quiet, and even the nurses at the desk spared him no more than a single glance. The noise of his boots seemed to reverberate around the silent halls. The numbers on the doors passed by, until he found the one he was after. Curtains drawn, and he hesitated. A soft voice spoke quietly next to him.

"Are you a relative?" a short man looked up at him from beneath thin, gray hair. Wordlessly, Severus nodded.

"The boy is in a bad way, I must warn you before you enter. He has been unconscious since the accident, and has some very grave injuries. Primarily, we are worried that he may never regain his eyesight. It seems his glasses smashed in the impact, and his lower body was trapped in the wreckage. His legs are broken, and he has internal injuries also. In fact, I was surprised he survived such a horrible accident,"

Severus felt his unease grow, but squashed it.

_'He's Potter. The boy is like a cockroach, he'll survive. Doctors always tell you the worst so you don't get your hopes too high,'_ It sounded illogical, even in his own head, but he could not bring himself to think any different. The boy was a replica of his father; there was no room for the thought that he might have suffered just as any other child would have.

"If you're ready, we can go in now," the doctor offered, taking his silence to mean that he was upset.

Severus gave another sharp nod, and followed the man into the room. The first thing he noticed was white. Everything, the sheets, the machines, and most importantly, the boy, were white. His head was swathed in crisp bandages that hid the grotesque bodily fluid beneath. A steady beep indicated that he was still alive, and his chest rose in small movements. The doctor seemed to sense his reluctance to move closer.

"I'll give you a few minutes. It can be confronting, at first," he said with a sad smile as he moved out of the room.

Severus opened his mouth to say that it wasn't confronting. He had seen so much worse during the last war, scenes that had left him with nightmares for years afterwards. It was not horror that kept him from moving closer; it was disbelief. They were enjoying one of the few times in wizarding history that no conflicts were being fought, a time when it was supposed to be safe. Here lay the hope of the wizarding world, covered in bandages and barely breathing because of some muggle contraption. Here was the boy-who-lived-to-be-the-bane-of-his-existence in near death, and he had no idea that his most hated Potions professor hovered above him.

He took a step, feet dragging him nearer to the bed than he cared to be. The bandages covered his face, from nose upwards. Tubes ran down his slack mouth, blanket pulled up to his chin.

_'What was I really expecting? That I would just be able to waltz up and grab the boy, disapparate and shove him into Pomfrey's care? That in days he'd be back on the Quidditch pitch, back to tormenting me with those damned green eyes?'_ Severus berated himself.

His fingers twitched suddenly, and his body gave a strange spasm.

"Lie still, Potter. You will only injure yourself further," he said, knowing full well the chances the boy could hear him were zero. More to himself than to the boy, he uttered the words; "I hope you don't think this will excuse you from your potions homework, Mr. Potter,"

He had to contact Albus. The situation was worse than he could have ever imagined.

A/N- there you go, a second chapter in as many days. I thought I'd address one review in particular, since the writer obviously went to a lot of trouble to leave such a constructive review (Thank you for that, by the way ). Firstly, regarding Severus being so shocked. While it is true that he has seen many things during the war, and has been a spy for many years, he has also lived in the peaceful times in the 11 years since the Darklord disappeared. He went to the Dursleys with the impression he would find a spoiled, pampered Harry, not the news that he was dead as the woman said first.

As for the summer, I suppose reading the books and watching the movies gave me the impression that all of Harry's summers were hot, even at the start of them. I didn't really base any of my descriptions of heat from anything I've experienced in Australia; I live in a cold part that only has a brief summer myself.

Also, I meant for Harry to be waiting outside, near the car park, so as not to antagonize his Uncle further by having to look for him. Heh, but the Motorway I can't excuse. I suppose I call it a freeway or a highway because that's the lingo here, and they are the words I use. My main inspiration for this chapter was the film clip for "One" by Metallica. Can't really say how inspirational that song and clip is, especially together, and if you haven't seen it, watch it! My other inspiration is the book "Accident" by Danielle Steele that I read years ago, and always liked. (Hence my title)

Thank you all for the reviews, it's overwhelming really!


	3. Chapter 3

The Staff of the hospital seemed to watch the progress of the elderly man as he walked up the first flight of stairs. Although his hair and beard gleamed silver, there was no hesitation in his steps, and time seemed not to have ravaged him. He wore a crimson suit made from velvet, and at his neck there was a tie covered in pink stars. For all his bright appearance, there was that same old worry in his eyes. They had seen it before; relatives and friends unsure about the state of their loved one. No one approached him however; and he did not stop to ask directions at the Front Desk. His gold boots tapped gentle on the stairs as he made his way upwards, stopping finally when he reached the third floor. Immediately his gaze was drawn to the dark haired man who sat stiffly in a plastic chair against the wall, and he approached.

"Severus?" the single word held more than just a name; he asked for an update on the situation, begged for some good news.

"He's in a bad way, Albus. I'm not sure there is anything we can do for him, in his present situation. If I could access my potions, perhaps…" his dark eyes looked past the older man, calculatingly.

"I would like to see him," The voice shook slightly, and to Severus' ears it sounded strange. Albus had been the pillar of strength in the wizarding community for almost fifty years; to know he was scared to see a young boy was incredible.

A man, obviously a doctor, stood watching them.

"Are you the boy's Grandfather?" he turned his hazel eyes to Severus. "The one you were telling me about?"

"Yes. This is Dr Griffin,"

Albus surveyed the man gravely.

"I am sure our Harry is in capable hands,"

Perhaps it was the piercing blue eyes, or something else entirely, but the Doctor shivered suddenly.

"Of course. You may see him now," he gestured toward the door, a sense of déjà vu enveloping him. He could not be sure, but he had a feeling he had seen this man somewhere before.

Albus swept into the room with his usual grace, but stopped short of the bed. He saw, as Severus had, a badly injured young boy. But unlike Severus, the sight caused him profound distress. The boy was not supposed to be like this. He was too young to have such a terrible thing happen to him, as if age determined anything. Albus reached out and gently stroked the child's cheek, remembering he had done so only a few weeks ago when Harry had faced the Dark lord. This time however, Harry showed no sign of reacting.

"Why is his head so heavily bandaged?" he asked, turning to the gray haired man.

"He suffered head trauma from the impact, as well as damage to his eyes. If he wakes up, it is essential that he not try and open them until they heal completely, and we can assess how much, if any, of his sight is left," Griffon explained clinically.

Albus made a noise in the back of his throat in acknowledgement.

"Will he wake up?" he asked again, as Harry rhythmically breathed beside them.

"We cannot answer that either at this early stage. He is currently in a medically induced coma, and it would be impossible for us to wake him. It is commonly believed that coma patients here everything that is said to them however, and it's even thought that it helps in waking them up, so to speak," he answered.

Albus studied the boy intently for a few more minutes.

"I will go now, but I will return tomorrow. Is it ok if I bring another of Harry's relatives to see him?" he smiled at the doctor, who once more felt as if had meet this man before.

"Of course," he murmured, taking Harry's chart as pretence to avoid staring at him.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, moving outside to speak once again to the raven haired man.

Severus glared stonily at him. He had seen the boy; what more could the old coot possibly want?

"I have seen him, Severus-" Of course he had, Severus had just seen him enter the room minutes earlier. "And I've decided to bring Poppy to get her opinion. Of course, you are right, he cannot be moved in his condition, but maybe with a few potions and memory charms we can move him to the Hogwarts Infirmary," here Dumbledore's eyes took on that wild gleam he got when he was about to suggest something he knew Severus would dislike.

"I want you to stay with him, and talk to him. The doctor said he was in a coma, and that people often hear all that is being said to them,"

"What am I meant to do? Read the Potter brat a bedtime story?" Severus whispered furiously, so as not to garner unwanted attention. "I have done as you asked. I checked on the boy, and I found him here, at this hospital. You are here now, and I don't see why I should remain here-"

His tirade was cut short however, when Dumbledore raised a hand to command silence.

"You vowed to protect the boy, all those years ago after that fateful Halloween night. Now, when Lily's only child is in dire need, you would abandon him? When he is hurt beyond belief, you would leave him amongst unknowing muggles? What if Lucius, or any other Deatheater for that matter, should discover his condition?"

The man beside him paled, and turned with flashing eyes to his mentor.

"You use her every time I have to do something unpleasant, as if my love for her is something you can manipulate for your own ends, old man. I am not your pawn!" he hissed, turning on his heel.

"Harry needs you, Severus. Is that not enough?" Dumbledore said softly.

Severus stopped short, and took a final glance at the motionless form in room 103. Stupid, foolish Gryffindor. Spitting image of his father to boot. He dared to have her eyes though, and her smile.

"I will stay," Severus said stiffly. "But not on your orders. I will stay to protect the boy," he sank into the nearest hard plastic chair, gripping his hands together tightly as he did so.

"I knew you would do the right thing, my boy," Dumbledore murmured softly.

"I will see you tomorrow. Poppy is visiting relatives in Australia and may take some tracking down,"

Severus merely turned away, shoulders rigid with anger.

Dumbledore smiled again at the gray haired doctor as he left, and proceeded to walk down the stairs.

"He seems a little…eccentric," Dr Griffon commented to Severus after Dumbledore had left. "What does he do, if I may ask?"

"He is the Headmaster at a private school in Scotland," Severus said stiffly.

"Oh really? I could have sworn I've met him before, when I was very young. You'll think me odd, but all these letters arrived for me when I was eleven. My parents didn't answer them, and then one day this man in a bright blue suit showed up on the doorstep and spoke to my parents for a few minutes, and then left. My father seemed angry; he was a doctor, that's all I ever wanted to be myself you know…"

Severus glared at a small crack in the plaster to the left of the man's ear until he stopped talking.

Dr. Griffon cleared his throat hastily.

"Anyway, if you'd like to, you can spend an hour with the boy. Maybe you could read to him from one of your magazines?" he smiled wanly, and waited for a response.

Severus glanced at the potions manuals he had disguised as muggle magazines and grunted.

"I suppose,"

Bloody Gryffindor might actually learn something, if he could even hear his voice.


	4. Chapter 4

Perhaps it was the lack of human noise in the sterile room that made him feel so out of place. In the hall there had been pure silence; even the wide-eyed nurses watched him without speaking. Here machines beeped their continuous message, and made the boy in front of him breathe. Slightly disturbed, Severus sank into the worn chair beside the bed, eyes glued to the still figure. Ever since the Potter brat had set foot in Hogwarts hallowed halls he had been met with adoring fans, fame and the unfaltering friendship of his fellow Gryffindors. Now he was one with the machine.

Severus cleared his throat before speaking.

"Potter, your doctor said there's a chance you can hear me. If so, there's no harm in trying to stuff that empty head of yours full of Potions. It's not like you learnt anything of use this past year. Now, the basics. Few appreciate the subtle art that is Potions Making…" Severus slipped easily back into the world he knew best. Potions were so much more than just a hobby, or a job for him. They were a constant part of his life; hence why so many of his memories were associated with them. The boy made no sign he had heard a word he said, but the sound of his own voice drowned out the machines somewhat. The doctor watched them inconspicuously from across the hall. He could not hear what the dark haired man was saying, but even he appreciated the rhythmic tones in the sterile environment.

After he had spoke for over an hour, his voice began to crack. Harry remained motionless as ever, but surprisingly Severus felt better about the situation. He stood, and nearly leapt backwards as the machine let out a new noise. It was high pitched, ringing continuously. Doctor Griffin brushed past him almost roughly.

"You're going to have to leave, Mr. Stevens," he said, as the once silent nurses joined him.

"What's happening?" Severus demanded, not moving.

"It is as we feared. His brain has begun to swell from the impact, and his body simply cannot cope. Now, you have to leave!" A male nurse grabbed his arm and pulled him from the room, gently at first, until he struggled.

Alone in the hall, and now completely unable to see Harry, Severus felt panic rise within. What did any of that even mean? Surely that machine would save him, why were the doctors so frenzied?

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the door opened and in a rush the bed was wheeled out followed by the swarm of physicians. One separated from the rest and walked over to where Severus now stood.

"I am sorry to inform you Mr. Stevens, but your nephew is in real danger at the moment. He is being taken to the operating room for emergency surgery. I will not beat around the bushes, there is a high chance he will not make it through the afternoon,"

The words hit Severus like a physical blow to the chest. The boy was 12 years old. That he should die was inconceivable. He sank back into his chair with a soft thump.

"I'm sorry sir," The nurse said sympathetically. "His blood pressure has risen and there is a lot of pressure on the head wound. There's a high chance of brain damage, but where there's life, there's hope after all,"

He patted Severus on the shoulder before heading in the direction the other Doctors had gone.

Severus felt so shocked that he did not recoil from the physical contact. The hard chair had never seemed so undesirable; he desperately wished he were anywhere else at that moment. Anywhere but waiting to hear whether the boy who lived would in fact be dead by morning.

A clock on the wall showed the passing of hours, but every click of the hand drove a spike of unease through Severus. What was taking them so long? After what seemed like a lifetime the white bed was wheeled back, and the machine had resumed a steady beat.

Doctor Griffin broke away from the throng and went to speak to Severus.

"We had to operate once more. He came close, but the boy is a fighter. He will need to be closely monitored, but with any luck the swelling should ease over the next few days. You should get something to eat, Harry may need you," he smiled down at the greasy haired man in what he assumed was a reassuring way.

Severus stood abruptly, feeling a strange sensation pass over him.

"Notify me immediately to any changes in his condition," he said, and swooped from the room. As Doctor Griffin watched him leave, he could well imagine the fearsome expression on Severus' face.

Albus had made his way back to the room Harry was in, although today his robes were a charcoal gray. Beside him a short woman with a determined expression on her face walked, glancing about occasionally at the paintings on the wall. Her hair had been drawn back into a severe bun, and there was a worried expression on her face. Her eyes fell on a dark form in a chair near Harry's door.

Severus was asleep, mouth open. His gentle snores seemed to echo around the other wise empty hall.

"Severus," Albus said gently touching his shoulder.

Severus was awake instantly, blinking blearily at them both.

"How is Harry?" Albus asked as soon as Severus regained lucidity.

"He almost died last night, Albus. His head wound seems to be causing him great distress," Severus said bluntly, getting to his feet.

"Can we see him?" Albus asked looking even more worried than when he had entered. Doctor Griffin nodded from the corner, and they went into the room together.

Harry's skin looked pale and lifeless. Severus felt Poppy stiffen beside him. He knew how she felt; the sight was highly confronting. Being a Healer however, she seemed to get over it quickly though. She moved towards the bed, and ensuring that no one was watching, discreetly waved her wand over the boy while holding a piece of parchment.

"His injuries are most severe, Albus. If this had happened in the magical world, I do not know whether we could have saved him in time," she whispered.

"Then there is no hope?" Albus asked sadly.

"I wouldn't say that," Poppy answered, reading over the parchment again.

"Where there is life, there is hope," Severus murmured, and colored slightly when he realized he had spoken aloud.

"Exactly, Severus," Poppy said briskly, choosing to ignore his embarrassment. "What we need is a Stasis potion, and a big enough distraction to get him out of here and into Hogwart's hospital wing,"

"Stasis potions don't appear out of thin air. Slowing the body down enough so that it no longer needs oxygen is risky, and the potion takes at least three days to brew," Severus said. "And that nosey Doctor still retains some of his magical ability. He might throw off a Memory Charm in time,"

"Doctor Griffin? Well, his family on his father's side is distantly related to Godric Gryffindor's cousin Gredric. Two generations back his great grandfather was born a squib, and no one in his line but the good Doctor have had magic since. His family did not want him to have a magical education, and Gregory himself wished desperately to be a muggle doctor. Rather than have uncontrolled magic occur, I gave him a Magic removal potion and left. He should have lost all of his abilities," Dumbledore explained.

He had sifted through his memories since meeting Doctor Griffin, and remembered why the man had seemed familiar.

"Well it's wearing off. Right after he brought Potter back last night, he smiled at me and it was like he was force-feeding me hope. He's an empath; and he can project his emotions. That's probably why he's a Doctor," Severus said indifferently.

"Well, we shall have to get him to support our cause. I can make it so Harry Potter was never registered at this hospital, or any where in the Muggle world," Albus said determinately. He had to do something; he felt useless in this situation as he had not felt for years.

"Severus, you shall have to make the potion. It is extremely volatile, and I trust you above all others," Dumbledore continued.

"Who shall stay with the boy?" Severus asked, almost reluctantly.

"Remus Lupin has just been forcibly removed from his place of employment. I'm sure he will be amenable. Poppy, I trust you will have the Hospital Wing ready for Harry in three days. I will not lose him," the sparkle in Albus' eyes had changed to steadfast determination, and for a brief second there was no mistaking the wizard who had defeated Grindelward in 1945.

The witch and wizard left, with a backwards glance at the still form in the bed. Severus waited until a familiar sandy haired werewolf entered the hall, and left without greeting him. He was desperate to return to the cold comfort of the dungeons, and immerse himself into the ancient art of Potion Making.


	5. Chapter 5

The cold chilled air of the dungeons was a welcome relief. Severus sank into the familiar comfort of his usual haunt with ease. He looked around his lounge room, noting with satisfaction that he would finally be able to sit in the plush comfort of his recliner as opposed to the unerring hardness of the hospital chairs. A fire danced merrily in the grate, casting odd shadows across the walls, most of which were lined with various wizarding books. On one side of the room there was an odd collection of muggle fiction. Severus stopped to run his fingers lovingly down the spines of some of his favorite novels. Reading had always been a source of great pleasure to him, and more than anything he wished to fall into a world that was not his own. He selected a thick volume of a book titled "Watership Down" and placed it next to his favorite chair.

'You'll be waiting for me when I finish,' he thought with a sigh.

He had a potion to brew.

* * *

The sandy haired man, although shabby, quickly made friends with the nursing staff. His gray eyes had the tendency to crinkle at the corners, and his smile was easily brought forth. His genial manner was clearly stifled when he entered the patient's room.

"Ah, Harry," Remus said, sinking into the chair next to the bed. If not for the bandages, the boy beside him was the spitting image of his childhood friend. Remus quietly reached out and touched the small, pale hand. His own hand was rough and callous with age and hard work, and easily covered the youngster's. When Remus looked at Harry, without knowing a thing about him except his parentage, he felt pity.

Doctor Griffin moved up silently behind him, studying the pair.

"I told the boy's Uncle that it was best to speak to Harry; you never know what helps. He sat talking for a good hour before he left," he said.

Remus' eyes widened slightly at this comment. He knew that Severus was the man being referred to, and it surprised him that Severus could be so compassionate.

"I think I will do that, Doctor. I'm sure Harry will come back to the waking world if he knows we're all waiting for him too," his smile silenced even the Doctor, who moved away slightly flustered.

"Alright Harry. Introductions first. My name is Remus Lupin, although your Dad used to call me Moony. You see, your dad and I were friends at Hogwarts along with two other boys…" Remus said mellifluously.

The boy next to him made no physical acknowledgement, but his mind was whirring.

* * *

When Severus Snape, much-feared Potions Master and Greasy Bat of the dungeons, had read aloud to him, all Harry had felt was fear. He was completely immobilized; he could not speak or move, or even try to get away. He was confused and unsure how and why this was, and his memories slipped form his head like water through a sieve. This new man, Remus, was gentle and soothing. Although he did not know what he looked like, he knew he was smiling sometimes, and images of his father as a student filled his mind. James would have been happy; a prankster, and smart like the Weasley twins. With his voice beside him, and his father's image in mind, Harry drifted gently between worlds. He escaped into a world without pain, without fear, and most importantly, without Severus Snape.

* * *

"Mrs. Dursley?" an old man said, coming up to stand beside her. He handed her an embroidered handkerchief, into which she loudly blew her nose.

"You have my sympathies. Losing your entire brother's family must have been a shock.

The large woman shook her hair from her face and answered.

"Vernon and I were as close as siblings can be. Not a week went by that we didn't call or write each other. Dudley was growing into such a fine young man," she dabbed the handkerchief against her eyes again.

"It must be some comfort to you that Petunia's nephew survived such a tragedy," The man, Colonel Fubster said shaking his head.

Her eyes flashed momentarily.

"The boy is unfortunately, not the best example of his Aunt's stock. A delinquent, always in trouble," Seeing the man's eyes widen in surprise at her description she hurriedly added "Not that I wish him any ill, just that beside Dudley…" she trailed off, feigning overwhelming emotion.

"Of course," he sympathized. "Have you been to visit the boy yet? I'm sure he too must be suffering the loss of his family, and be in need of a familiar face, much as you are my dear,"

A clash of emotion crossed her face, surprise, anger and disgust.

"Perhaps a visit is in order, yes," she said faintly. Perhaps she could finally vent her anger at the small urchin who had ruined her brother's life, and ultimately cost him it. Making others feel bad always made her feel better after all.

* * *

The Potion was in the stewing stage, giving Severus some welcome time away from work. He finally sank into his deep armchair, trying to savor the novel in front of him, but it was difficult. His mind refused to stay with anthropomorphic rabbits, and moved back to the small boy in the hospital bed. Cursing himself, he stood and ambled form his quarters. He found his way down to the closest apparition point, and disapparated to the Hospital. Even at night, the building stood out like some grim refrigerator, but he did his best to ignore this fact. The idiot Lupin was sleeping in one of the uncomfortable Hospital chairs, looking as though time had wearied him. There was a hole in the elbow of his well-worn sweater, and his hair looked lank and unclean. As always though, there was the feeling of calm Remus projected, perhaps subconsciously. He moved past the sleeping werewolf and into Harry's room, nodding curtly at the watching Doctor. He sank into the chair Remus had occupied earlier, and opened the book. The room was warded and had silencing charms, and he was not worried about anyone overhearing.

"The primroses were over. Towards the edge of the wood…" his voice seemed to change as he read. He had always been a fine public speaker, when required and tonight he outshone himself. Harry's dreams turned from his unknown father, and followed the journey of the struggling rabbits, and Remus slept on, blissfully unaware that Severus had even been there.

* * *

For all there was peace that night in one room of the hospital, elsewhere a storm was brewing. Marge had not forgotten Colonel Fubster's advice. She had arrived home from her nephew's funeral, kicked off her sharp black shoes, and stared aimlessly at the photo of herself and her brother on the mantle. He was smiling, and beside him Petunia was looking nervously around, as she always did when the two boisterous siblings were reunited. Dudley was smiling, holding a twenty-pound note gleefully in his hand. Almost out of shot was the boy. He was holding a dirty digging fork, and not looking towards the camera. A neighbor who had taken the photo had asked kindly whether Harry wanted to join them, but Petunia hastily dissuaded him by saying the boy was grounded and had to finish his chores. The more Marge stared at the picture, the more her hatred grew for the child who stared innocently back at her. The child who had ruined her life.

A/N- Wooo another chapter. Took a bit longer than I expected, but it's here now xD. Marge is developing quite the obsession isn't she…any questions, comments or suggestions, review! Alas, I knew for months how this chapter would play out, but finding the right words eluded me, so I suppose I need all the help I can get. So…Review?


	6. Chapter 6

It had been all too easy to sneak past the Welcome Desk at the front of the hospital. Marge had simply trotted past with an enormous display of flowers clutched in her hands that obscured her face. She was just another relative, someone's doting mother, aunt or sister, here to bring comfort that only dead/dying flowers can bring. She made her way up the numerous steps, huffing noisily as she went. She wished she had taken the time to look for an elevator before attempting it; but there had been little time before someone would have asked if they could direct her. She had called ahead; strangely enough the woman on the phone, while giving her condolences, had also mentioned other relatives visiting the boy.

'_Ridiculous.' _Thought Marge. '_Everyone knew that Petunia was his only living relative. Disgusting as it is to admit familiarity with the boy, the only ties he had were to the proud Dursley name,'_

Finally, the stairs stopped, and she came to the floor he was on. She smiled at a passing nurse, who looked almost startled before smiling back. Perhaps she had looked forced with her emotion? She had hoped not to encounter any of the nursing staff, as it would raise questions when the boy's machine failed. Still, if she was caught, she could innocently say she had tripped over the cords or something. Nobody would miss the filthy little urchin anyway. He had been a burden to her family, and was now a burden for the hospital system. She walked past a sleeping man, noting his threadbare appearance. He looked like a homeless man, and for a second she felt something akin to pity, before the usual superior feeling followed. There were so many dregs in society, and that man was just another example. It made her feel all the more justified in what she was going to do. She pushed open the white door with her innocuously gloved hands. The boy laid prostate in the bed before her, but unlike any of his previous visitors, she felt little sympathy. He had probably caused the crash anyway. He was the reason Vernon was gone.

Swiftly, she moved to his side, grasping his thin wrist as she did so.

"You killed him. My only brother, and you killed him. Freak," she spat the last word, knowing how it had pained him as a child. He had always wanted to fit in with her perfect family, but he was a stain on their perfect life. He was a weed that needed to be pulled, the unwanted runt of a puppy that had to be drowned at birth lest it take away from the others. Oh yes, she would almost enjoy this (but to actually enjoy murder would make her something she did not care to think about). Her eyes had followed the cords until the point where they met in the wall. With a vicious tug she pulled them out, and almost eerily, silence followed. The machines died, and the boy let out a gargled puff of breath as his throat constricted around the tubes in his throat.

"Goodbye, little runt," she said in a sickly sweet voice. Her moment's pause cost her however, as the white door she had entered moments before swung opened, and in a fury, Professor Severus Snape appeared.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

* * *

Severus stopped reading, and gently creased the page so he would know where he was up to. He had become lost in the fantasy world, and his leg had fallen asleep. He also felt the pressing need to go to the bathroom. He stood, stretching, and for some absurd reason felt like apologizing to the boy for stopping reading. He was at an exciting part too, as Hazel and Fiver led the others through the surrounding woods, and he himself wanted to keep reading.

"I will return momentarily. Don't go anywhere," he made the last sound as condescending as always, but it was more for his own benefit than Harry's that he said anything at all. He was by no means a social man, and this little visits were bringing out a talkative side he thought he had lost when Lily died.

As he stared at his reflection minutes later, he wondered what he looked like to the rest of the world. Sure, he had gained the respect of every student at Hogwarts, but at what cost? Even without the brewing of Potter's stasis potion, he had the work of ten men to do. He was always tired, looked pale, and barely ate. If he was not careful, he would end up where Potter was, or worse.

'Stupid man. So your life didn't turn out the way you planned. Is this any time to go all morbid? Potter will recover, and you'll go back to docking points from him in class. If anyone else could hear your thoughts, they'd cart you off to St Mungo's and lock you away,' He chided himself.

He let the water fall over his pale hands for a full minute, before turning off the nozzle. His fingernails were stained with a thousand colors anyway, from his constant brewing but it was nice to have cleanliness in a place like a hospital.

'Now, just leave. You need to get back to your potion and the boy probably couldn't hear you anyway.'

He patted his pocket, frowning when he realized he must have set the book down on the bedside cupboard in the boy's room. He would have to return for it, in case Remus saw it and worked out someone else had been visiting the boy.

Severus walked back to the room, careful not to wake the sleeping werewolf. He pushed open the door, and saw the large woman with her hands on Potter's machine, which was blank.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, raising his voice. Outside, Remus bolted upright.

"Severus?" he called. "What are you doing-?"

But he never finished his question, as the dark haired man barreled his way into Harry's room. He snatched the offending cords from the woman's lifeless fingers and pressed them into the socket, noticing with a pained relief that the boy's chest rose and fell once more.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" Severus' voice was low this time, and although some would take this as a sign of calm, Remus knew the signs of Severus' true anger.

The woman seemed to puff herself up, as if all her rage came through her at once.

"That boy is a menace on society! He is a no good wretch who killed my brother and his wife, not to mention my darling nephew. He deserves to be dead! My brother never wanted him in the first place! But he was a good man; he'd have been packed off to an orphanage if he'd been dumped on my doorstep. He's nothing but a freak!" she screeched the last words, and made one last lunge towards the bed. Severus simply waved his wand, and went flying backwards. She opened her mouth for another tirade, but he silenced her with a spell.

"You, aren't you meant to be on guard duty? Get this harpy out of my sight before I cast more than a silencing spell," Severus snarled with a movement towards the man standing flabbergasted at the doorway.

"But Severus, what will I do with her…?" Remus said helplessly.

"Take her to Dumbledore, and explain that she just tried to murder Harry Potter," an odd, feral smile graced his lips. "I would like to see what he'll do to her, when he finds that out,"

She made an odd flailing movement, but Remus simply grabbed her arm and disapparated, leaving no trace of her evil nature behind. Severus moved back to the bed, immediately noticing the finger marks on the boy's wrist. She must have put immense pressure on it, to leave suck obvious and immediate bruising.

With a deft flick of his wand, the marks disappeared. He watched the boy for a moment, as if trying to detect a change in him. Certainly he, Severus, felt as if something were different. With a nauseating feeling in his stomach, Severus called for Doctor Griffin. He waited for Lupin to return, before making his way out of the building. He disapparated and appeared outside Hogwarts, waiting for his emotions to catch up with him.

He took a deep calming breath. He had rushed to the boy's rescue, felt fear at the thought of his death. He had felt anger at the woman's words, and a nagging worry about her insinuation that her brother had not wanted the boy. Perhaps he had not lead the life of a pampered prince as he had thought?

Severus tried to shake these thoughts.

'Dumbledore will deal with the woman. Focus on what you know, focus on the potion. Nothing else matters,'

Even as he chanted those words inside his head, Severus knew deep down, that something other than his love for Lily had motivated his actions that day. But what was it?

A/N- So Marge is evil. We all knew that right? What should her punishment be? And Harry will wake up in the next chapter or two. What should be the repercussions of the accident? One I've already hinted out, but what else would you like to see? Review and tell me! xD


	7. Chapter 7

The old man surveyed her over the rim of a porcelain cup, eyes full of some indescribable emotion. That he had not offered her a cup angered her, but she was not to know he had offered sweets and tea to many an unpleasant person who entered his domain. She was not the worst, nor the most evil to pass through the doors into his study, but at that moment Dumbledore felt something he had sworn he would never feel again; hatred. Oh, he knew her motivation to kill Harry; he entire world had depended on her brother, but her twisted mind still saw her crime as nothing more than if she's attempted to swat a fly and not snuff out the life of an incapacitated eleven year old.

When he had surveyed her mind, he had also seen that apart from Vernon's death, there was nothing else of significance that could have caused her to feel such hatred toward the boy; her feelings were based of the shadow of Petunia and Vernon's thinly veiled fear of magic. Marge did not think of the boy as anything other than a dark spot on their perfect lives, and yet she did not have a foundation for this fact.

Severus stood at the back of the room, utterly still except for an ever-tapping foot. He wanted to see Marge get her due, and knew what Dumbledore was capable of. He expected some huge show, and perhaps he would be disappointed in this.

Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Marge Dursley, you stand accused of the attempted murder of one youth, Harry Potter. From your mind, I have gleaned the facts and nothing you say can deny your intent,"

She made a squeaking noise behind her gag; she had objected so strongly that she had long since been silenced.

"Ah yes, magic does exist, my dear woman. The boy you tried to kill like an unwanted puppy is one of us. He is one of the greatest wizards of the age. Your dear brother and his wife always ensured no one ever knew this; not as a protection for the child, but rather because they were ashamed of the fact. They feared the boy, and they passed this irrational fear on to you. You however, choose to hate him. You knew nothing about his magic, or his parents, and made assumptions. That you were grieving the loss of your brother is irrelevant. To take another's life stains the soul, in ways you cannot possibly imagine,"

He took another sip of his now almost cold tea, grimacing at the taste. His eyes never left hers however.

"I can read you like a book. You think that a mere boy killed your brother? His own pigheadedness and stupidity killed not only himself, but his family as well. I know you've read the police reports. You live alone, with few friends. Your family meant everything to you. For the crime you have committed, I am going to take them away,"

Her eyes bulged, and she made a move to leap from the chair she bound to. She did not stop struggling as the Headmaster's clear blue eyes bore into hers.

"I am going to take away every good memory you have of your brother's family, and I include Harry in this. You will never know he existed, because you will never know you had a brother. At times you will feel an incredible loss, much like the one you would have inflicted on Harry's friends should you have succeeded, but you will never know it's origin. You will go on as you always have, but bitter and alone. Nothing shall ever give you comfort and happiness again, not so long as you walk this earth,"

She struggled more as the white haired wizard raised a stick of wood and pointed it at her face, and then she knew no more.

* * *

"Are you sure it's going to be enough, Headmaster?" Severus said softly. They had deposited the unfortunate woman back in her home, but Severus had expected more.

He had wanted to kill her for what she had done to Harry, but he would never voice these thoughts.

"You think about it, Severus. When someone leaves us, all we have is their memory, and what we felt for them. She had no one except her brother, and now she doesn't even retain his memory. Imagine how it would feel to have no memory of Lily Evans, and what she meant to you,"

Severus felt as if Albus had punched him in the stomach, such was the emotion he felt at the mention of her name. Between them, Lily was never mentioned as a Potter, as if the Headmaster understood exactly how he felt. He remembered the way her red hair brushed her shoulders, the way her nose crinkled when she smiled. How her laughter used to ghost its way over his skin and leave goose bumps behind. How a simple touch would leave him thinking about her for hours.

"I think I understand, Headmaster," he replied finally.

"Lily left behind a very important part of herself when she died, Severus. She left us with Harry. She loved him more than life itself, or Harry would not be here today. She gave her life to protect him," Albus moved back behind the large wooden desk and sat down. He waved his wand and two cups of tea appeared before him.

Severus shut his eyes, unable to picture Lily giving her life for the boy as always. The thought was too painful.

"I need to finish the potion," he waved away the offer of tea, and turned on his heel to leave the room.

"Severus? I have asked you before, but I will ask you again. Do not think of Harry as a Potter, or a savior, or even as Lily's son. He is simply Harry, and at the moment, he needs us,"

Severus did not reply.

* * *

The potion was finished. It sent out an eerie green glow and even when cool, sent out soft vapors of steam. Severus uncorked a vial, and filled it, knowing instinctively how much would be required. The hard part would be in getting Potter out of the hospital without alerting the muggle authorities, and especially without alerting Doctor Griffin.

* * *

The three of them made an odd sight in Muggle London. Severus, tall and clothed in all black, a neat gathering of hair at his nape. Albus had opted for an aqua business suit, with a purple ribbon gathering his beard, and Madam Pomfrey was dressed in all pink. They attracted quite a few glances from the muggles at the hospital, and Severus cursed again. They stood out like a sore thumb, but Albus gaily lead them inside and up to Harry's floor. Severus had tried to present the problem of Doctor Griffin to Albus, but the man had merely waved him off and said he had it covered.

Said Doctor looked up and frowned as the entered, no doubt wondering what had brought such a deluge of visitors. Remus also looked up, along with another wizard Severus did not recognize.

"Ah, Doctor, I was wondering if we might have a word in private? Naturally I'd like to have the family present," Albus said, maintaining his happy demeanor.

"Of course," The Doctor replied, with another frown.

Remus got up and joined the group in an unoccupied room, and Severus was not surprised to see Dumbledore charming the door shut, and preventing anyone from eavesdropping.

"Now, I brought you in here to tell you that magic does indeed exist, and that I require your help in a small matter," Albus said breezily, ignoring the shocked glances thrown his way.

"Excuse me?" Griffin spluttered.

"Magic. It exists. Wizards hide themselves from non-magical people, whom we refer to as muggles. We have done so for centuries. We use magic the same way muggles have developed science; to protect ourselves, to heal and to make our lives easier,"

"You are insane. I am going to have to call the authorities-" he moved as if to access the beeper on his trousers, but Albus stopped him with a lazy wave of his wand.

"What are you playing at Dumbledore? Revealing ourselves to muggles isn't going to help Harry?" Remus asked, confused.

"Doctor Griffin is not a muggle," Dumbledore explained. "Rather, he was one of the few students whose parents wished for him to remain in muggle education. He had been accepted to Hogwarts, but his magic was repressed when his parents rejected our world. Incidentally, his family tree shows many wizarding representatives, but also a long line of squibs, who had decided to abandon the magical world, as they were discriminated against so forcibly in their time,"

"I refuse to believe it. You're nuts," Griffin replied bluntly.

Albus simply caused a fireball to appear in his hand, and held it up for the room to see.

Griffin gasped audibly.

"Tell me, have you ever made things happen simply by wishing them so? Your talent has always been in healing, whether by magical or muggle means. Did you ever wonder how you knew that woman last year had cancer, without performing any tests? You soothe patients with a brush of mind magic, and you take their pain away by the same method. All your patients have short recovery times, because your magic helps them recover,"

Dumbledore crossed the room, and pointed his wand at the trembling man. He muttered something, and it was like a light switch had been turned on in the other man's mind.

"You…you came to see me when I was a child, and you explained all about magic. I remember…" Griffin swallowed thickly, as he also remembered his mother's cries, his father's disappointment.

"Yes. And I need you to help me now. I need all records of Harry to disappear, and I need you to not make a fuss about his disappearance. He will be well taken care of, by our healer here," Dumbledore motioned to Madam Pomfrey, who nodded.

"In return, I would like to welcome you to our world, and give you a chance to embrace your magic,"

Doctor Griffin was silent for a long time, as if considering his answer.

"I will accept your offer, but with conditions. The first is that you show me how to use my magic to help people, and to heal. The second is that you let me see Harry again. I could not let you take him in good conscience unless I knew he was safe, and recovering," he said slowly.

"Fine," Dumbledore nodded, looking immensely pleased about something. "Now, we are going to go into Harry's room, and administer a potion that will cause his body to stop functioning. He will feel no pain, but he also will not be able to die when we move him to Hogwarts. We will start to heal him with magic, and return for you in a few days. Remus and Madam Pomfrey here will come back,"

Griffin looked as if he was going to make Dumbledore promise, but he stood aside.

Together, the assorted group tramped from the room, and across into Harry's room.

Severus was almost nervous now, as he brought the vial to the boy's lips and gently rubbed his throat, forcing him to swallow the concoction. He glowed with the same strange green light as the potion for a brief moment, before his chest stopped moving. Doctor Griffin and Madam Pomfrey moved forward at the same time, Griffin to check his pulse. Madam Pomfrey started to gently pull the tubes out of his throat and skin, as Griffin exclaimed in amazement.

"It's still there, his pulse, but it's slow,"

"Magic is indeed wondrous," Albus replied, his eyes never leaving the still form in the bed.

"I will apparate with him," Severus said suddenly, moving forward. He did not know what prompted such an action, but was relieved when Albus smiled at him.

"Yes, that would be best. Remus, you go with Severus and Madam Pomfrey. I will stay and begin removing Harry from the files here, and the memory of the nursing staff. Severus pulled the boy gently from the bed, and cradled his lifeless body against his chest. He briefly met the glance of Albus before he and the boy apparated away.

A/N- Yay, yet another chapter. Loved all the reviews from last chapter, and I hope I gave Marge a fitting enough punishment. Thoughts, suggestions, disgust or praise; tell me all by clicking that little review button


	8. Chapter 8

They hit the ground with a soft thud, Severus maintaining his balance with ease. Moments later, both Remus and Madam Pomfrey appeared beside him. He walked quickly towards the distant castle, regretting the distance he had to travel with the still form in his arms. The boy felt too light; he had not needed any spells to make him so. Potter had always been thin while attending school, but thinking back on it, he had eaten infrequently and sparingly. Remus opened doors from him, silent and absorbed in his task, while Madam Pomfrey was silently pointing her wand at the boy, monitoring his life force, no doubt.

"Lay him on that bed," Pomfrey commanded as the entered the Hospital Wing at last.

Severus did as he was bid, laying the boy carefully on the bed. He immediately took some of the already prepared potions from the shelf, waiting until he saw the sign he was looking for.

"What happens next?" Remus asked nervously beside him. "How will we know when the Stasis Potion wears off?"

"Trust me, Lupin, when it happens you will know about it. I ensured around ten minutes leeway, in case something prevented us from reaching this room in time,"

As they watched, a golden light seemed to surround Harry, and he shrieked, unconsciously arching his back.

"What's happening? Is he awake?" Remus moved as if to touch him, but Severus blocked his arm.

"Out, Lupin. You don't want to see this," Severus snarled.

He and Madam Pomfrey were gently holding the child down, forcing a potion down his throat. Severus ran his fingers down the bruised throat, forcing the liquid into his system.

Remus paled considerably and fled the room. Harry shuddered, and seemed to relax all at once. His face schooled in calm, Severus stood back and let the Healer do her job. He wordlessly handed her potions when she reached for them, before moving back to let her work. After hours, the boy was still in the relaxed state, but his body seemed largely healed. They both stood back then, watching him with similar expressions.

"You could do nothing for his eyesight?" Severus said softly, the first time he had spoken for hours.

"He already had such poor eyesight, and it's been too long. There are potions, spells, but none I would trust to use when he's in this state. He's barely breathing on his own as it is," She replied stiffly.

Severus knew she was disappointed that she could not do more, but merely said, "You should send Lupin in to watch him. If you don't sleep you will burn out your magical core and the boy will never heal," She nodded and swept from the room, and Severus could hear her explaining the situation to Remus, and Albus also by the sound of it. He reached out tentatively and brushed a stray lock of hair from the child's sweaty forehead. The scarring around his eyes was horrendous, with deep lines crisscrossing at random angles. Severus hesitated, and gently ran a finger down the scars. Beneath them, Lily's eyes would be forever trapped.

* * *

Remus had agreed to watch the boy, and fire call Madam Pomfrey if there was any change. Severus knew there was nothing else he could do, but sitting in his quarters made him feel inadequate. They had done everything they could when they brought Potter to Hogwarts, but his injuries were still severe. The damn boy had looked so fragile, lying lifeless and unmoving. Potter should be awake, annoying him with his resemblance to his father, not causing him, Severus Snape, this distress.

"You took good care of Harry, Severus," a voice behind him said.

Severus jerked his arm in surprise, knocking the inevitable drink from his hands. He had intended to have a Firewhiskey and fall into bed, blissfully unaware of the boy upstairs.

"Of course, Albus," he said irritably mopping the liquid up. "What else did you expect?"

"Nothing else, of course, dear boy. I know how much you cared for Lily, and would do no less for her son,"

"Potter is NOT Lily, they have nothing in common," Severus snarled, feeling the uncontrollable urge to throw the cloth he was using at the Headmaster.

"He's not James, either. He's Harry, and he's hurt. He has survived a terrible accident, one that he should not have lived through. His magic protected him that much is evident. His own Aunt tried to kill him, and I saw some disturbing memories in that woman's mind," Albus shook his head, as if trying to forget what he had seen.

"He does not need your petty hatred, Severus,"

Severus whirled around to face him, fists clenched.

"And what about me, Albus? When am I going to get justice for what those thugs did to me? They tried to kill me-" he stopped, realizing he sounded petulant.

"James and Peter are dead, and Sirius is locked in Azkaban for the rest of his life. Remus lives a miserable existence, refusing any financial help and being shunned from Wizarding society. When will it be enough, Severus? I can't change what happened, no more than you can. But Harry has done nothing to deserve your hatred, except for an unfortunate coincidence in parents. He will need you, especially when he wakes up. You're the only one who can procure potions for him after all. You are more alike than you know," Albus said the last gently, knowing the reaction he would get from the other man at the words. But Severus seemed to slump, and closed his eyes.

"What else do I have, Headmaster, save hatred? I don't know anything else," he whispered almost inaudibly.

"That is an answer you must find for yourself, Severus. Remember, Marge Dursley was driven mad by first love, and then a terrible hatred. I know you are stronger than that, and I know you can forgive. Forgiveness is what you want most of all for yourself, after all,"

Severus opened his eyes, but the Headmaster was gone. All that remained was a terrible ache, and a feeling of realization.

* * *

Remus had his hand over the boy's, fingers gently running circles his palm. He was talking, but the subject was not one Severus wanted to hear.

"That year, as a treat, Dumbledore organized a Yule ball. It was dark times, and people were disappearing, but somehow the idea that we had something to look forward lifted everyone's spirits. Your parents went together of course. Your mother- well I've never seen another girl so beautiful. Her hair looked like it was spun from garnets, and her green dress was the envy of every girl there. But it wasn't just that, it was the way she looked at your father. I knew, even then, that she loved him, and he loved her. They both loved you, Harry, with all their hearts. I know they would be so worried to see you sick like this, so you need to get better. You need to get better so you can see some of the pictures I have of that dance…"

Severus slipped back into the shadows. He should not have come back. The image was as fresh in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. Lily, vibrant and beautiful. Lily, happy without him. Lily, who did not need him. Why would her son, the son who shared the same damn eyes, ever need him either?

Harry danced among the stars, with a beautiful red haired woman in a green dress. A man touched his shoulder and he stood aside. He smiled at the other bespectacled figure.

"May I take this dance with your gorgeous mum, Harry?" and they twirled away, two bright figures dancing away from him, but Harry could only smile. His mum was as beautiful as the voice that haunted his dream described.


End file.
